A Month with Lola

(Note: It has now been two months with Lola. I haven't had much time for writing lately, but I hope that will change from now on.)

I meant to keep a daily, or even weekly journal, of our experiences with a new puppy. In fact, other than when I was a very young child, I'd never had the experience of raising a puppy. We didn't exactly plan on getting a puppy. It was a happy result of unfortunate circumstances (see Death Brings Life).

When we did set our heart on rescuing Lola (she was unnamed at the time) from a shelter northwest of Dallas, in the small town of Decatur, we had no reliable means of transportation to make the 400-mile round trip. I posted frantically on Facebook through my status updates, seeing if anybody was by chance making a trip from Dallas to Austin on Saturday, September 10, or even to Waco. I called and texted a few friends. We made calls to the staff at the shelter, someone affiliated with Catahoula Rescue South Central, and finally, I posted to every page and group in Texas that was involved in rescuing dogs and cats from shelters and helping them get placed in new homes.

Sometime early on Friday evening, I got a text message from a guy named Mike, who founded a little nonprofit called Transpawtation Texas. He said he'd be able to pick her up early Saturday afternoon and could have her to us by 6 PM, perhaps sooner. She was scheduled to be put down that day - she had maybe until Monday or Tuesday to live. There was nothing wrong with her. The women at the shelter told us she was very sweet, good natured, and in good health. The only thing wrong with her was that no one was available to give her a home.

Mike offered to bring us Lola out of the goodness of his heart, and to "do his part" - he fronted the $25 adoption fee and asked simply for a donation. When he arrived, he handed her over to Shand as if she were a little rag doll. She had thrown up inside the crate and looked bewildered. Shand took her inside the house and out to the backyard, while I stayed out front chatting with Mike, thanking him profusely, and learning more about his nonprofit.

I don't know how I had the courage to bring a puppy into our home. Our remaining adult dog (after Changa passed away), Tonka, was a 12-year-old grumpy Catahoula who had once attacked a smaller dog at the green belt. The woman with the other dog was throwing a stick out into the creek, and on the third or fourth time he went out to fetch the stick, Tonka went after him and grabbed him by the collar. Since then, I could not take the dogs out for walks, or to any public places, without major anxiety that Tonka would get involved in a brawl.

Somehow, though, Tonka understood that Lola was part of the pack. He sniffed at her, and she timidly began to explore her surroundings. We set out a dog bed near Tonka's bed in the kitchen, to give Lola her own space. At first, it was difficult to get them settled into a feeding routine. She didn't have much of an appetite. She was more curious about his food, and he was more curious about hers. I had to coax her into eating, and she'd only eat if I threw her kibbles on the ground and pushed them around. She was probably going through some re-adjusting, having come from the shelter, plus she was having side effects from the de-worming treatment. It also turned out she had a parasite called Coccidia.

After a month-long treatment with a supplement called FortiFlora and an antibiotic for the parasites, her little bony ribs stopped protruding, and she gained five pounds to her current twenty-one pounds. She loves her food now, and she wolfs it down as quickly as she can. We are feeding her Wellness puppy food, and we've switched Tonka to a grain-free dog food called Hi-Tek. Ever since we'd adopted Tonka and Changa in early 2006, we didn't know much about dog food. We figured dogs were equipped to eat whatever. We'd been feeding them generic dog food from HEB, with the excuse we were on a budget. But over the past year, we've been learning about all the contamination and empty fillers in most dog food, so we decided all our dogs from now should enjoy the same quality, nutrition we get as humans. I partially blame food for Changa's brain tumor and ultimate death.

In addition to the worry of getting Lola rid of worms and parasites, I also learned about the deadly parvo virus, only after I'd taken her to a dog park. I mentioned to our vet that I was concerned she might pick up worms at the dog park, but she explained parvo was a much bigger threat and concern for puppies. Essentially, it's a life-threatening disease that can be spread by direct or indirect contact with poop contaminated by the virus. It's very difficult to get rid of it, and it can survive in feces or organic material such as dirt for up to a year.

I didn't fully comprehend the disease, however, until I'd taken Lola to a dog park for the second time, and had taken her to other public places where contamination was also possible, such as Petsmart. Even when we finally realized the seriousness of parvo and only took her to very controlled environments, we discovered that the threat of the virus can still sneak up on you. We'd taken Lola to backyard party hosted by trusted friends, whose dogs were a bit older and disease free, and it turned out a neighbor had a puppy who had overcome parvo several months earlier. It was possible he'd tracked in the virus on his shoes. I stressed for the next few days, watching Lola closely, inspecting her poop for normal signs.

But at some point, you have to stop being paranoid. All you can do is be cautious. We take Lola for walks around the block, and even that can be a threat. But she needs exercise and activity to burn off her boundless puppy energy. The backyard simply isn't enough. And throwing the ball to play fetch with her sometimes upsets Tonka. I still have flashbacks to Tonka going after the blue heeler who was fetching his stick at the green belt.

One safe place to take your puppy to burn off excess energy and learn new things is a puppy class. Our vet recommended Buddy's Chance on North Lamar. They have a free class on Monday nights for puppies under 15 weeks of age. We've taken her once so far, and she had a ball playing with a bunch of little boy-pups. She learned how to allow us to restrain her by the collar, how to trust other friendly adults with our permission, and how to roll and tumble - without going overboard - with other pups. We'll be taking her to this class a couple more times until she graduates to the Puppy II class for more serious learning of various commands and tricks.

We did teach Lola to "sit" and "shake" (which she knows as "paw") very early on. When she is not overly distracted, she also knows "down." It only took about 20 minutes to teach her to give her paw. She's quite smart - intelligence is a feature of the Catahoula breed. We've also been studying a book that our friend, Chris (who had facilitated the rescue of Tonka and Changa back in 2006) brought us from the thrift store. It's called "The Art of Raising a Puppy," and it's written by the Monks of New Skete who live in upstate New York.

The book has been criticized for some by its harsh and rigid techniques. As it turns out, "mouthing" (gentle biting), is not as inappropriate as the monks say. As the trainers at Buddy's Chance explained, it's good to let puppies bite on you so they learn how to do it gently. That way, if they ever bite when they are older, it won't be a harmful bite. Although, I am sure there are a dozen different perspectives on the matter. We'll keep our eyes and ears open. Like raising a child, there is no one perfect way to do it. And that is one thing I do like about the book - it points out that raising a puppy is about developing a relationship and learning how to communicate with your dog. The communication goes two ways. You need to learn how to read your dog, and you need to understand the way the dog reads you.

All while keeping Lola disease free, socialized and introduced to a variety of environments, and teaching her manners and commands, we've also been watching her relationship develop with Tonka. At first, he seemed to simply tolerate her. He did not seem upset to have her join our home, but he did not seem too interested in her either. His only reaction to her seemed to happen when she got too close to his face or food, or when he became jealous at whatever she was doing, whether it was playing with her treat-filled toys or having too much fun with fetch. He would snap, growl, and/or lunge slightly at her.

At first, whenever I thought Tonka might have this kind of reaction to her, I'd turn or walk way, unable to deal with my fears that he'd attack her. But he never did. I eventually learned that his behavior toward her was very similar to a momma dog putting her pups in place. A momma will even pin her pup to the ground and curl her lips. All the older dog is doing is showing dominance and correcting the young pup's behavior. As long as the pup reacts in the appropriate manner, no harm is done. And Lola has been very good at submitting to Tonka's dominance. The more she submitted, the less interested Tonka became in whatever activity she'd been doing in the first place to annoy him. He wasn't trying to steal her bone or take over her game of ball. He just needed to make sure she knew he was the boss.

Today, I caught Tonka laying on his back while Lola hovered right near his face, pawing at him. He was playfully pawing back. I'd never seen Tonka in such an act of dog loving-ness. He was never even this sweet with his old lady Changa. Somehow, Lola won his heart. He doesn't seem to growl as much - or any more it seems - when she comes prancing in through the dog door while he is peacefully sleeping near it. He doesn't seem to mind when she jumps on him or follows him around. It seems they've become pals even. I think, one afternoon while we were out running errands, they signed some kind of canine pact. They figured something out between them we'll never know.

It's been an incredible month - five weeks now. For now, it's the closest thing I know to having a child. Watching a puppy grow before your eyes, developing a bond with big brother, learning new tricks and behaviors, blossoming in her personality, and learning every new thing in the world. She's discovered squirrels, birds, babies, drive-thrus with dog treats, small and big dogs, puppies and old dogs, vacuum cleaners, coffee grinders, leashes, bar patios, the joy of chewing up sneakers and cell phones, her shadow on the ground, her reflection in the mirror, how the vines grow across and through the chain link fence, and what rain after a long drought in Texas feels, sounds, and smells like.

Her favorite toy is a squeaky monkey that looks like Curious George. She squeaks on the thing with great passion, especially if I start laughing. I've never seen a dog squeak on something so fast and so hard. She cuddles with it as if it were her stuffed animal. She takes it out out to the yard and rolls it around in the dirt and grass. She goes on insane sprints round and round the yard with the monkey in her jaw.

She learned how to get up on the couch, but she also learned that it's forbidden, so she figured out how to grab a cushion from the couch and pull it out through the dog door and to the back deck. She likes to be comfortable. One day, she jumped up and grabbed her blanket from the clothesline, and she dragged it over to the corner so she could lay on it.

We approximate that this month [October 2011], Lola is four months old. (I've given her the birthday of September 10, since that is the day she came to us, and we were told she was about three months old then.) I'll check back in with progress when she turns five months.


Girls will be boys and boys will be girls
It's a mixed up muddled up, shook up world
Except for Lola, L-L-Lola.
--The Kinks

Death Brings Life

Originally published in monthly print newspaper, TODO Austin, October 2011.

Rest in peace, Changa (23 August 2011).
Your spirit remains.

The weather has cooled down. (Sort of.) It’s rained. (Sort of.) Regardless, fall has started, and now we begin the end-of-year holidays that put the rest of the year on fast forward. Holidays can be hectic, but there is one that gives us a chance to slow down and reflect. Most of us in the U.S. grew up with Halloween, but if you grew up with the Mexican culture, you likely celebrated Día de los Muertos. Or if you’re like me, even though you grew up with both cultures, it wasn’t part of the family tradition, and you discovered it later in life.

Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) is mainly a Mexican holiday dating back to the Pre-Columbian era, honoring friends and family who have died. It takes place on November 2nd, but infants and children are also honored on November 1st, which is Día de los Angelitos. Rather than being a somber occasion, people gather and remember loved ones by build altars – both at home and at the cemeteries – with sugar skulls, marigolds, and the favorite foods, drinks, and possessions of the deceased. They sing, laugh, and tell stories, to create a cheerful and welcoming gathering, inviting the souls of the dead to return for a day and rejoin the living.

I’ve been lucky that death has tended to stay far from my family and friends, although it is inevitable, and one day, we will all die. As time passes, I will deal with it more and more. Sometimes it seems people have a hard time talking about, or even acknowledging death. My grandmother María Ines Lopez Gurrola passed away in 2007. This was my first experience losing someone close. Maybe because I did not see her every day, the way I used to when I was a child, her absence did not hit me a in a very real way.

I knew I would no longer be able to see when I visited Mexico, and that whatever stories she never told would never be heard. She comes to me in dreams often, even though I never dreamt of her when she was alive. This makes me believe that even if souls do not return to Earth, some form of energy does, even if just in the form of a memory.

At the end of July, one of our dogs, Changa, developed a brain tumor. It appeared, almost overnight, the way a cartoon character sprouts a lump after getting bopped on the head. It was perfectly round, a ping-pong sized ball, popping out between her eyes. After seeing three vets and one specialist, the diagnosis was grim. Probably malignant – that is, cancer – and even if it was operable, it would be an expensive and torturous process both for us and for Changa. The vets told us all we could do was make her as happy and comfortable for the remainder of her life. We’d know the day it was time to let her go.

Changa first came to our home in April of 2006, along with Tonka. We rescued them from a friend of a friend who had gone to Washington for a job. Changa was around four years old and Tonka was six – both Catahoulas and my first dogs that were not Chihuahuas. At first, these 50-pound dogs with an unknown history overwhelmed me, but I grew to love their smart and funny personalities. Catahoula owners are fans for life. Although he didn’t always do it on command, Tonka knew just the right moment to offer you his paw when you were feeling down. Changa always wanted to be right at my feet and rubbed her face like a sea otter when she was feeling happy. They both always took part in Shand’s band rehearsals, unfazed by loud guitars and drums. Musical dogs, just like their human ma and pa.

When Changa took her last breath on August 23, 2011, I not only felt the emotional sadness, but also the physical sadness of losing a friend, a family member. I know dogs aren’t exactly like children, but to us, they were like children. The moment her heart stopped beating, I felt as if someone punched me in the stomach and tore out a giant piece of my insides. For a couple of days, I walked around feeling dizzy and numb, as if floating and not really in this world. I don’t know if those sensations were normal, or what they mean, but that’s what I felt.

During the Bastrop fires, Shand was looking at a website with pictures of lost and found dogs. From there, he stumbled upon CatahoulaRescue.com, which then led him to the Urgent Animals at the Wise County Texas Animal Shelter Facebook page. When I came home, he said, “You need to look at this.” And there was a picture of a sweet-faced puppy who looked like a mini-version of Changa, scheduled to be euthanized in a couple of days. Although Catahoulas are a breed, the AKC does not recognize them, probably because they descended from molossers and greyhounds, brought to Louisiana by Hernando de Soto, who mixed with the Native American dog. Catahoulas vary in shape, size, and color. Changa’s physique was one of the least common variations.

So, on September 10, three-month old Lola came to live with us. She likes rooting in the canna plants for a cool spot, lays down with her paws stretched out ahead like Superman, and she has this way of watching each and every tiny move you make. Just like Changa. Although Changa has left the Earth, perhaps part of her came back to us in the form of Lola. We hadn’t even planned on adopting another dog just yet. Death sometimes happens when you least expect it. But so does new life.

Plastic Bag Ban Is a Violation of American Right to Pollute

All over the United States, local governments and community organizations have been banding together to ban the use of plastic bags at retail and grocery stores.

Environmentalists have finally brought it to mainstream attention that they are creating serious waste problems. The plastic bags are collecting in mounds in urban areas, trapped in fences and trees. They also appear on roadsides in the wide open country, and they even wind up in our oceans and soil where they break down into toxic bits.

But the people of America are downright outraged by this move to ban plastic bags! With over 100 billion bags used per year, and a little over 300 million Americans, that's an average of one plastic bag per person per day. Anyone can quit drinking or smoking if they put their mind to it, and people have been known to go days without food and water, but what's a person to do without a plastic bag?

Read the rest of the article on The Leaky Wiki.